Shepherd in the Darkness
by CrlkSeasons
Summary: This story was written to show off Tom Paris' piloting skills and the important role they played in the success of Voyager's missions. Set on the Delta Flyer within the two part episode, Dark Frontier.
1. Chapter 1

Shepherd in the Darkness

Chapter 1

Far from Voyager, near the eerie glow of a remote binary system, the Delta Flyer followed the residual signature of a Borg sphere and dropped out of transwarp space.

The Borg sphere's trail disappeared into a tightly packed asteroid field that lay directly ahead. Radiation from the nearby star system made it difficult for the Flyer to detect the ion traces left by the sphere. The sphere may have continued on through normal space, or it may have re-entered any one of the many transwarp conduits that clustered in this region of space. There was nothing to do but to get in as close as possible to the asteroid field to see if they could pick up the trail once more. Traveling at one-quarter impulse, the Flyer moved in to sniff out its prey.

A week had passed since Kathryn Janeway set out with Tuvok, the Doctor and Tom Paris to track down the Borg vessel that had carried Seven of Nine away from Voyager. So far they had endured countless hours of tedious scanning, abruptly interrupted at unexpected moments by adrenaline pumping excitement when they were forced to elude other Borg vessels.

Inside the Flyer's main cabin, Tom Paris occupied his familiar station at the helm. He rechecked their speed and heading and made a minor adjustment with one of the knobs that he had designed for the ship's twentieth century inspired console. It was going to be tricky for them to get close enough to pick up useful readings. Tom had to be extra careful, in this tight to the asteroid field.

Kathryn Janeway sat at one of the rear consoles, monitoring the ship's multi-adaptive shields. The Flyer's crew had survived several close calls so far. She had every confidence in them and in her pilot's ability to handle any challenge he was called upon to face, whether that was in transwarp or in normal space. However, it always paid to stay on full alert when dealing with the Borg,

The rear doors slid open. Tuvok entered the cabin, followed by a very annoyed Doctor.

"You could have stayed on your break a few minutes longer, gentlemen," the Captain noted. "We still have some time before we're in optimum range."

"I found twenty minutes to be a sufficient amount of time in which to consume a meal, Captain," Tuvok replied. "Especially since the Doctor chose to entertain me with one of his operatic arias." The reason for Tuvok's relatively speedy return and for the Doctor's irritation was now clear to both Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris.

The Doctor huffed. "Music aids the digestion. It is very restful, Mr. Tuvok."

"Twenty minutes provided me with sufficient 'restfulness', Doctor," Tuvok explained patiently. He turned his attention to his duties.

The Doctor retreated to his own station at the rear of the cabin. He was developing a new procedure that should help them to detect Seven's biosigns more effectively to assist in her recovery. He maintained his air of injury and resumed his work in silence.

As the Flyer neared the leading edge of the asteroid field, a smudge of telltale green signaled the emergence of another transwarp aperture. It was much too close for comfort.

"Captain," Tom called back to her. "There's a Borg cube preparing to exit a transwarp conduit hard off our starboard bow."

The cube emerged into normal space, scattering the smaller asteroids on the outer edge of the field, sending several of them careening into the Flyer's shields. Lights inside the cabin flickered before stabilizing once more. "Captain," Tuvok reported from his station. "The multi-adaptive shields are off line."

"Re-activate them."

From his position at the helm, Tom could tell that their situation was bad. "It's no use, Captain," he informed her. "The Borg cube has detected us. They're changing course to intercept. We have limited maneuverability this close to the asteroid field. Even if we could raise our shields immediately, they would still be able to figure out where we are."

"Mr. Paris is correct, Captain," Tuvok agreed. "They could extrapolate our position from our last known co-ordinates."

"Options!" The Captain cut through this flow of incoming data to direct their energies toward a possible course of action.

Three organic brains, and one holographic one, worked to formulate a feasible plan. Tom tightened his grip on the control levers as a plan took shape in his head. "Captain, I have an idea."

"What is it, Mr. Paris?"

"If I can get us in behind one of the larger asteroids up ahead, I think I'll have enough room to execute a complete turn in the few seconds the asteroid will protect us from the Borg sensors. If we can re-engage the multi-adaptive shields at that precise instant, the cube won't know where to look for us."

"The plan has merit," Tuvok noted. "May I suggest that we also fire a burst at the surface of the asteroid? The Borg may accept this as evidence that we have crashed and refrain from further investigation."

"Do it!"

Tom turned back around to plot a course that would take them safely into the field and also safely back out again. They had to move fast to make this work. But it wouldn't be much of a plan if they crashed for real.

"Mr. Tuvok, co-ordinate weapons fire with helm. I'll handle shields," the Captain instructed from her station.

Tuvok nodded his acknowledgment and directed his attention to ship's weapons.

"Tuvok," Tom called out, "I'm going to bring the Flyer in as if we're trying to land on the far side of one of the larger asteroids. After you fire, I'll bring the Flyer out of her turn and reverse our heading."

"I will fire on your signal."

"We'll only have a few seconds, Mr. Paris," the Captain reminded him. "Make it fast."

"Understood."

Tom took the Flyer deeper into the field, aiming her at a particularly large asteroid. "The Borg ship is closing fast on our tail, Captain. Ready on the shields."

"Acknowledged."

Only moments before, the asteroid up ahead of them had been a pebble in a sea of pebbles. Now it loomed like a mountain of barren rock. Large as it was, there would be barely enough room behind it to complete a turn. It would take all of Tom's skill and all of his concentration. His skill had never failed him. His concentration had only failed him once in his adult life. Unfortunately once had been one too many. Tom swore softly as they skimmed dangerously close to a Flyer sized rock off their port bow. He angled the ship to take advantage of a narrow passage and set the ship up for the loop that would double them back on their original course. "Course change," he announced, "in 3-2-1, now!"

"Firing."

"Shields engaged."

Tom rolled the ship and brought her nose up in what would have been a steep bank if performed within a planet's atmosphere. The twists and turns combined to bring the ship about in what should have been an impossible angle in outer space. It probably was impossible for most pilots. The inertial dampeners neutralized most of the effects for the crew. But the forward view of dark rock blurring against darker space was sufficiently stomach churning that no one criticized the Doctor for complaining that he was going to turn green, albeit a holographic green. Tom took the Flyer out of the asteroid field to streak undetected past the Borg cube. He maintained course until they reached the far side of the binary system that they had passed earlier. There, the Flyer took up a holding position.

"The Borg cube is not pursuing," Tuvok reported in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Well done, team," the Captain commended them. She stepped down to the helm to add, "Nice flying, Mr. Paris."

"Thanks, Captain," he replied, forcing himself to breathe normally again.

"Yes, Mr. Paris," the Doctor spoke up. "Nice flying. Although, you could have shown more consideration for my holo-nerves. I'm sure it wasn't necessary to make quite so dramatic a turn."

Tom rolled his eyes and the Captain patted his shoulder.

"Perhaps, next time, _I_ should handle the helm, Captain," the Doctor suggested.

The Captain wasn't even remotely tempted to take the Doctor up on his offer. He might be programmed with piloting skills and have the experiences of several pilots entered into his data bank. He didn't have Tom's instincts for flight or his expertise in making split second decisions to find the best course from among the many options available. It was not only a matter of picking the best course for the immediate split second, but also of setting the ship up in the best possible way for the split second after that, and for the one after that as well. Tom once explained it to her as playing a game of pool on a gyrating, three-dimensional table. Only in this game, the ship was the cue ball and the object of the game was to _avoid_ hitting any of the other balls.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said dryly. "I think we'll stick with Mr. Paris. I wouldn't want to compromise your diagnostic skills," she added, exchanging an understanding look with Tom.

"Of course not, Captain," the Doctor agreed.

A second Borg cube exited the conduit near the asteroid field. It gave no indication that it noticed the Delta Flyer and continued off in another direction.

"Mr. Paris, maintain position. We can use the cover from the radiation in the binary system to hide for now. Let's gather as much data as we can about the conduits near this system."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Mr. Tuvok, we may not be able to get precise readings through this radiation, but let's see what we _can_ pick up from the ion trails left by all this Borg traffic."

"Aye, Captain."

Time to return to scanning for clues. Somewhere in this haystack of space, there had to be a needle for them to find.


	2. Chapter 2

Shepherd in the Darkness

Chapter 2

Delta Flyer's crew settled back into their now familiar routine, first scanning and analyzing, then scanning and analyzing some more. There was plenty for them to analyze in this region of space. It was turning out to be a major confluence for Borg traffic. During the first few hours that the Flyer held position, a virtual non-stop stream of Borg vessels arrived to continue off in various directions, entering and exiting conduits near the asteroid field. Kathryn Janeway sorted through a wealth of data, inputting information on her console. During the odd lull in Borg activities, she read more of the records that the Hansens, Seven's parents, had recorded during their long months of observing the Borg.

After several hours hunched over her console, Kathryn stopped to stretch and loosen the tightness in her shoulders. Noting how many hours had passed; she decided that it was time for her pilot to be relieved. "Mr. Paris, go grab some dinner and then get some rest. Mr. Tuvok, take over at the helm."

Tuvok stepped forward to take over the helm controls. Tom Paris swung out of his way, moving a bit stiffly. He had been sitting for hours.

"You should take a break too," the Doctor advised the Captain.

Tom stopped to listen. It had also been many hours since the Captain had taken any kind of break.

"I will, Doctor. After I'm finished here." The Captain's tone was strictly 'no nonsense'. She didn't even look up from her work.

The Doctor gave a skeptical, "Humph!" and turned away. He had heard that promise too often to give it much credence.

Tom sighed. He knew that the Captain would sometimes let her crew cajole her into taking better care of herself. This didn't seem to be one of the times when his intervention would do any good. He continued out of the flight cabin down to the cabin on the lower level.

Over an hour later, Kathryn had managed to skim through a few more PADDs. Each new PADD gave her a little more insight into the Hansens. Every new piece of information brought her one step closer to knowing enough about the Borg to be able to successfully retrieve the Hansens' daughter from those Borg.

At last Kathryn decided that it really was time to take that break that she'd promised herself. But then she noticed an interesting entry on the very next PADD in her pile. Maybe she would read a little longer and then stop. She sank back into the chair that she had half vacated and picked up the new PADD.

The Doctor's voice interrupted her train of thought. "I thought you were going to eat and sleep. Captain!"

"I will, Doctor. I am almost finished."

"You were 'almost finished' more than an hour ago," he complained.

"Nourishment and rest will improve your ability to process data efficiently," Tuvok observed from his position at the helm.

"All right," she conceded. "I'll get something to eat, then I'll come back and finish this last PADD."

"_Then _you'll get some rest," the Doctor amended.

"_After_ I finish the last PADD," the Captain told him pointedly.

"Of course, Captain," Tuvok said, stepping in smoothly.

Satisfied, Kathryn made her way to the lower cabin. She had expected to find Tom already asleep. Instead, he was sitting at the table, still eating his dinner. Whatever he had replicated for dinner smelled wonderful! However, Tom was paying more attention to the PADD in his hand than he was to the food on his plate. "I thought you'd be finished eating already," she commented.

Tom looked up. "I got sidetracked by the data from our last search pattern," he explained. "There are some spatial readings that we should examine further. I was going to give these to Tuvok so he could check them out."

"You can leave them with me," she offered. "I'm going take this last PADD back to the flight cabin once I finish reading. I'll give your data to Tuvok at the same time."

"You're going to have dinner first, aren't you?" he asked.

"Why is it that, within the past five minutes, all three of you have managed to make a comment about my eating?"

"That's what it takes to get you to eat?" he asked innocently.

She glared at him. He avoided her look simply by pretending not to see it. He walked across to the replicator. "What can I get for you? Are you up for something more adventurous than your regular soup and salad?"

She relented. "What are you having? It smells good."

"Oh, that. It's just chicken and vegetables. But I programmed a couple of changes to the recipes. Spices for the vegetables, a light sauce for the chicken. Why don't I replicate you some of the chicken and a green salad to go with it?"

"That sounds delicious."

"Computer, one serving of chicken, Paris one-five and salad, Paris three with dressing, …" Tom paused to consider his choice before completing his order, "dressing, Paris twelve."

"You have twelve varieties of salad dressing programmed into the replicators?"

"More than that, actually. Cooking is an art."

She knew that there were some people on Voyager who were more talented than others at programming variations to the basic replicator menu. Her own attempts to vary the recipes generally ended in disaster. She hadn't yet sampled Tom's cooking on the Flyer. The way she scheduled their time on this mission, the three of them seldom ate together. The Doctor, of course, didn't eat at all.

The aroma from her dinner lured her to the table. One taste and she remembered where she had stored her appetite in all these years of eating Neelix' food.

"Tom, this is wonderful!"

"Thanks," he answered, quite pleased. Usually he only cooked for B'Elanna or Harry, and then only when he had enough replicator rations to do a good job. He sat back down to eat the rest of his own dinner.

"This really is delicious. If you can cook like this, why do you eat…?" She searched for a way to phrase this without insulting his food choices.

"Why do I eat peanut butter and pizza?" Tom was ahead of her on this one. He laughed. "Good food isn't about complicated ingredients. It's quality that matters. In France, not every meal is fancy. They put as much effort into the simplest foods as they do into preparing an elaborate dinner."

Kathryn nodded her understanding and allowed herself the rare pleasure of enjoying a meal that tasted good.

Tom finished his own meal and picked up one of the PADDs he had been studying to recheck the data.

Kathryn finished her reading then looked over to try to guess what Tom was doing with _his_ PADD. "Tell me what you noticed in the spatial readings," she instructed him.

"Well, it isn't much," he said. He angled the PADD so they could both read it. "Do you see these readings from the other side of the binary system?" She studied the section that he indicated. She didn't quite see what it was about these readings that had caught his attention. "Now notice how the background radiation levels from the larger sun appear to fluctuate. It reminds me of other fluctuations that I've noticed when Borg ships pass close to a star system in normal space."

"I see what you mean," she said, catching on quickly.

"I know it doesn't seem like much, but many of the traces lead off in this direction." He indicated the co-ordinates he had found. "It looks like a large number of ships are heading off in that same direction."

Kathryn picked up his line of reasoning. "And if a large number of ships are going off in that direction, there must be something important to the Borg out there. Maybe it's important enough that that's where the Borg would take Seven. If we're right, there is a good chance that we can pick up the sphere's trail again."

"Either that or all those ships are heading out on some other mission that has nothing to do with the sphere or with Seven," Tom said, qualifying his optimism.

"But it's worth a try," the Captain maintained.

"I'll go and adjust the co-ordinates of our search," Tom said, rising from his seat.

"No," the Captain answered with a restraining hand on his arm. "I'll give the co-ordinates to Tuvok. You've been flying for more than sixteen hours straight. You get some rest. We'll need you at your best if this lead works out."

The Captain left Tom, climbed back up to the flight deck and made her way to the helm. "Tuvok, Mr. Paris has found what appears to be a large grouping of Borg trails leading off along this trajectory." She handed him the data. "I want you to move the Flyer closer to the other side of the system. Stay inside the protection of the radiation and run a series of intensive scans of the region around these co-ordinates. See if we can pick up anything that could be our sphere's trail."

"Interesting," Tuvok commented. "I will adjust our position."

"I'm going to enter the findings from the last PADD that I read, then get some sleep. If this turns out to be promising, I want to be ready. Wake me if you find anything."

"There's no need to disturb your rest, Captain," the Doctor told her. "After all, Commander Tuvok has _me_ to back him up."

"I'm sure he appreciates your support, Doctor. Wake me anyway."

"We will, of course, follow orders," Tuvok answered to make it clear to the Doctor that the Captain _had_ given an order.

"Thank you, Tuvok." She was grateful that he had cut off that discussion. She climbed back down to the lower deck, leaving the two of them alone together.

As soon as she was gone, the Doctor started up again. "Mr. Tuvok, maybe you should rest now too."

"Thank you for your concern. However, I slept twelve hours ago. I have no need for further rest at this time."

"There is no need for you to remain on duty. I have been programmed with multiple piloting skills. I am quite capable of handling the Flyer's controls."

"That is gratifying to hear. As you know, the Captain has made it clear that since we may encounter the Borg at any time, two crewmembers are to be on duty at all times. Even though your talents are impressive, you are still only one crewmember. I cannot abandon my duties at this time."

The Doctor was disappointed that his case for holographic superiority hadn't prevailed over Vulcan logic. Nonetheless, he accepted Tuvok's argument, for now, and resumed his research.

Down below, Tom was already asleep, oblivious to any sounds inside or outside the cabin. Kathryn knew that he had been about ready to fold, even if he had been fighting it. He had been flying fourteen to sixteen hour days all week, only stopping to eat and sleep. At the moment, he was rolled over on his side on one of the ship's pull out cots. His blanket was pulled up around his ears with his face half buried in his pillow. On a standard Starfleet cot, most people stretched out on their backs, almost sleeping at attention. Tom Paris went his own way in this as in so many other things.

Each cot had a privacy screen that could be extended to completely close it off from the rest of the cabin. Tom left his partly open when he slept. When she had called him on it the first time she noticed this, he had only shrugged and said, "Trust me. You don't want me crashing around, trying to find my way out of there while I'm still half asleep." She hadn't pushed further.

Kathryn went over to one of the consoles to enter the data from her PADD. Then she pulled out another cot from farther along the wall and closed the privacy screen. It was an ingeniously compact design with everything from storage cubbies to a mini sonic cleansing unit. You didn't have to cross to the bathroom to freshen up. She made herself comfortable and willed herself to fall asleep. Her mind, though, was still absorbed with the events of the past weeks.

Those weeks had started off so well. Tom had made the decision to try to find a 'Tom Paris' shaped space inside the parameters of Starfleet protocol and had resumed his duties as a full member of the senior staff. Then they'd come across a wrecked Borg ship with many of its systems still intact, a rare occurrence considering usual Borg efficiency in protecting their technology. For the first time in a long while, everything seemed to be working in Voyager's favor. That day, she'd felt more than capable of taking on anything that the Delta Quadrant could throw at her

But then the Borg Queen had somehow tapped into her plan to retrieve a functioning transwarp coil and they had ended up losing Seven. Well, Kathryn Janeway didn't give up that easily. She'd gotten Tom back. She would get Seven back too.

Her thoughts kept tumbling through her mind until, finally, she slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Shepherd in the Darkness

Chapter 3

It occurred to Kathryn that she was waking up. Or rather, it occurred to her that she could smell something that made it seem like a very good idea to wake up. It was a delicious aroma, one that she usually didn't get to smell while still in bed. "Coffee!" she informed herself. "Someone is making coffee!"

She quickly and efficiently looked after basic necessities and dressed. When she pulled back the privacy screen, Tom was already up and eating his favorite peanut butter and toast breakfast.

"Good morning, Tom. I didn't intend to sleep this long," she confessed.

"It's only been seven hours, Captain. You were up almost twenty before that. It's no wonder you needed some sleep. Do you want breakfast? I programmed something special that I think you'll like."

She had been about to refuse his offer and settle for coffee. But, he had taken the trouble to plan a meal for her. "All right. But, coffee first."

OF course," he smiled. "Computer, one cup of coffee, … " he waited. She _was_ the coffee expert.

"Janeway Morning Brew," she filled in.

"Janeway Morning Brew," he repeated, "and one order of toast, Janeway Flyer one."

His order appeared on the replicator's serving pad and he carried it to the table for her. "Here you are, Captain."

"Thank you, Tom." She took a sip of coffee before allowing herself to examine the rest of her breakfast. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's multi-grain toast with a mild, Ricotta-like cheese, accompanied by some pear preserves with a touch of ginger."

She took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss. "This is wonderful!" she breathed.

Tom smiled with pleasure. "I'd better go relieve Tuvok. Can I get you anything else before I go?"

"Nothing, thank you. This is delicious. Ask Tuvok to come down and join me, will you?"

"Sure thing, Captain."

Kathryn continued to savor her second memorable meal in less than two days while waiting for Tuvok.

"You wanted to see me?" Tuvok asked, reporting formally.

"Yes, I thought you could use a break to get something to eat."

"That was not necessary. If I wish to consume nourishment, I am able to do so without leaving the main cabin."

"I thought you could use a break from the Doctor's company," she elaborated.

"That is a different matter," he admitted.

"You should try some of this toast, Tuvok. Tom programmed the recipe. It's under Janeway Flyer one. You might want to leave out the ginger, though." She knew that Vulcan cuisine was famously bland.

"I will trust your judgment. Computer, one cup of Vulcan tea and one order of toast, Janeway Flyer one, omit the ginger." Tuvok sat down across from the Captain to sample the replicator's offering. Although he made no outward sign of appreciation, Kathryn suspected that he was pleased with the taste.

"Well?" she asked.

"It is satisfactory," he conceded.

"I'm surprised that you didn't discover how well Tom could cook during your time together on the gravity well planet."

"A diet of the spiders indigenous to that planet was not conducive to a demonstration of culinary skill," he pointed out.

"True," she acknowledged.

"Perhaps you should assign Mr. Paris to the mess hall and transfer Mr. Neelix to other duties?"

Kathryn kept a smile to herself and answered gravely. "Unfortunately, that would present me with another problem. I'd need to find other duties for Mr. Neelix, and the area that he's shown the most interest in is security." Tuvok's efforts to discourage Neelix from his interest in security had acquired an almost folklore status on Voyager.

"I appreciate the difficulty, Captain." Tuvok responded. Even if the Captain was speaking only in jest, he thought it was better to put a quick end to this topic of conversation. "Perhaps it would be best to leave current assignments in place."

"You're probably right," she agreed, feeling a twinge of regret of her own as she finished her delicious breakfast.

"Captain," Tuvok continued, this time on a genuinely serious note. "The area that we are scanning appears promising. If we do locate Seven of Nine and you and I transport to the Borg vessel, it is highly likely that we will not return."

"I am aware of that, Tuvok."

"That would also leave Mr. Paris in charge on the Delta Flyer. While I have full confidence in Mr. Paris' piloting skills, leaving him to carry out the rest of the mission on his own, may be asking too much of him at this time."

"I appreciate your concern, Tuvok. But, Mr. Paris is one of my officers. I'm not going to second guess the commitment that he made or his ability to follow orders. He has to know that I trust him and have full confidence that he will carry out my orders even if I am no longer here."

"Whatever those orders may be?" he asked.

"Whatever those orders may be," she repeated firmly.

Tom's voice from the conn broke into their conversation. "Captain, sensors have isolated the sphere's ion trail."

"Lay in a pursuit course, Mr. Paris. Red alert. We're on our way," she replied, nodding to Tuvok who was already up and moving.

Kathryn Janeway was still sliding into her station when Tom began his count down. Then space ahead of them shuddered and virtually redefined itself. A maw of sickly green opened and the Delta Flyer shot into the fibrous luminescence that was transwarp space.

Tom concentrated on flying, giving minimal thought to any company they might encounter inside the conduit. There was less than a thousand to one chance that they would meet a Borg vessel in transit. The intricacies of space inside a transwarp conduit made it unlikely for two ships to make contact inside a corridor unless they were both headed in the same direction and entered the conduit at exactly the same point. That was a good thing for the crew of the Flyer. For the moment, they were relatively safe. However, they would soon have to exit the conduit, likely in the middle of a busy hub of Borg activity. Then Tom knew that all bets would be off.

They were close now. Tom could feel it. In seconds, the green walls around them undulated, spat them into normal space and then collapsed into nothingness.

'Normal space' was a relative term here. Instead of the clean blackness of empty space, there was a jumble of mottled spans of metal crossing and re-crossing each other in a seemingly haphazard manner. Tom had a brief flashback to the scattered pieces of one of the sailing ships that he had assembled with his Dad. But, _this_ more closely resembled some kind of experimental maze designed by a demented scientist. In among the irregular angles of metal were the more familiar cubes and sphere of Borg vessels. At the heart of this tangle crouched a massive structure that was clearly not a Borg ship. What it actually _was_, wasn't clear at all.

The Captain moved up beside the helm to get a closer look. The closer look didn't help her. It looked more like a malignant hive that any sane person should know enough to run away from. Unfortunately, running was not an option. "Take us in, Mr. Paris." She pressed his shoulder before going back to her seat.

Tom took a deep breath and got set to fly into the mechanical nightmare up ahead.

"Any sign of Seven, Mr. Tuvok?" Kathryn asked when she resumed her seat.

"Yes, Captain. But, it is impossible to get a transporter lock from this distance."

"You heard him, Mr. Paris," she instructed Tom. "Take us closer." If they were lucky, they might be able to extract Seven without having to make close contact with the Borg. Kathryn thought about crossing her fingers for luck. Unfortunately, all her fingers were busy at the moment.

Any hope the Captain had of retrieving Seven without beaming into the Borg structure proved fruitless. They tried signal after signal. But they only locked onto nothingness. No recalibrations, no amount of effort could penetrate the shields around the chamber that held Seven. The best they could do was to beam into a corridor nearby and try to work their way into the chamber from there. Kathryn resigned herself to the inevitable. It looked like Captain Janeway was about to have a personal audience with the Borg Queen. She should have crossed her fingers after all.

"We'll need bio dampeners," the Captain alerted the Doctor. The bio dampeners had shielded them from Borg detection before. She hoped that the Borg hadn't yet found a way to adapt. She pushed that concern aside and moved quickly to get ready to transport over to the Borg structure with Tuvok.

She had one more order to give before she beamed down. If she was going to come face to face with the Borg, she wanted the Flyer's weapons ready to back her up. If things ended badly, she needed to know that her existence as a Borg would at least be mercifully short. She may have to face an audience with the Borg Queen. She had no intention of forming a long-term relationship. "Tom, target that chamber with full weapons. Prepare to fire on my signal."

Tom understood the situation they were in. He had no difficulty drawing his own conclusions. "Uh, oh," he thought. "This doesn't sound good. Did she really mean what he thought she did? Better check." Out loud he said, "Ma'am? Won't you be down there?"

"Do it!"

"I guess she did," Tom concluded as he turned back to the helm. All right then, he had a job to do. He transferred weapons control to an auxiliary panel on his console while maintaining optimum range for transport. It was no easy task. The heavy Borg traffic made holding position tricky. The Flyer's shields kept the ship hidden from Borg eyes, at least for now. The shields didn't make the ship invincible. The last thing they needed was to stay successfully hidden only to get run over by a passing Borg sphere. And it was only a matter of time before the Borg systems detected that there was _something_ out here. Then Tom's job would be twice as hard.

The Doctor whispered urgently as he adjusted the Captain's bio dampener, "Captain, I should go with you. We don't know what shape Seven will be in."

"All the more reason for you to stay here and prepare to help Seven once we get her back."

"But, surely … "

"No, Doctor," she said simply, stopping him in his tracks.

The Captain shouldered her weapon and rechecked the beam down co-ordinates. "All set?" she asked Tuvok.

"Ready," he confirmed.

Kathryn turned back to the Doctor. "There's a very good chance that I'll have to give Mr. Paris that order to fire. If that happens, the two of you are to try to get back to Voyager. The ship will need you."

"Of course, Captain." The Doctor's shoulders sagged with the weight of the realization that this was more than a hypothetical possibility.

"And, Doctor?" she added, lowering her voice.

"Yes, Captain?"

"If I give that order, Tom _will_ carry it out. In the days ahead, he will need the support of someone who was here, someone who knew first hand what was at stake."

"I understand," he answered quietly.

She nodded once and set up for transport. "Energize!" she ordered.

Then she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Shepherd in the Darkness

Chapter 4

Only seconds before, Tuvok and the Captain had stood on the Flyer. Then the transporter beam caught hold of them and morphed their bodies into shimmering particles of matter and energy. Now there was no trace of them left on board.

The Doctor moved quickly to break an uncomfortable silence. He cleared his throat and made a few other unnecessary noises as he took his station to monitor the away team's life signs. The dematerialization of the away team was too much of a reminder that another type of transformation could well await the Captain and Tuvok inside the nearby Borg structure. This exit might turn out to have been their final one.

Tom kept his attention on the controls in front of him. He avoided the temptation to steal a glance at the heart of the Borg maze where Tuvok and the Captain were now working their way toward Seven, and more than likely, the Borg Queen too. Tom's task at the helm was difficult enough. He had to keep the Flyer as close as possible to the Borg complex without interfering with the movements of any of the Borg vessels around them. Tom made his calculations, then set the Flyer into a complex dance of apparently random moves.

The Doctor didn't challenge Tom for the helm this time. In his holographic heart of hearts the Doctor knew that the speed at which Tom could calculate angles and vectors and his ability to coax a ship to do what he needed it to do made him the best pilot for this task. Mind you, he had no intention of sharing this opinion with Mr. Paris, and it wasn't as if his piloting skills were of much use to Mr. Paris in his job as medic.

"Hang on, Doc. This is going to be a rough ride." Tom called out from the helm.

"Why does that not surprise me," the Doctor muttered back rhetorically. He adjusted his position so that he could grab hold of something stable without losing sight of the monitors that were relaying information to him about the away team's life signs.

Their flight followed a torturous, unpredictable path, never moving them beyond the critical distance from the inner Borg chamber. But despite all of Tom's skill at the helm, he soon noticed a disturbing change in the flight patterns of some of the Borg vessels. They were being a bit too careful when passing through the area around the Flyer. Tom didn't think that they had penetrated the Flyer's shields yet. They had picked up on something though.

It was never easy to elude the Borg once they knew that there was something out there to find. Tom kept the Flyer moving in sharp, twisting turns and shifted the shield frequency. The Doctor kept his eyes on his console, trying not to look too closely at the all too vivid streaking of space around the rolling, twisting Flyer. But the Borg were on the hunt now and all of Tom's reflexes and flying ability couldn't hold them off forever.

All too soon came the words that, even after hearing them so many times, still sent a chill running down Tom's spine. "We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile." A tractor beam grabbed hold of the Flyer and started to pull them in. Tom fought with the controls, stubbornly refusing to give in. Even if he couldn't break free of the beam, he could angle the ship and reverse thrusters in alternating pulses to weaken the lock and slow the Flyer's progress toward the Borg cube.

While Tom was pulling back against the Borg in this deadly tug of war, the Captain's voice came through the comm system, trying to reestablish contact with the Flyer. From somewhere inside the Borg chamber, Tom could hear a second speaker too. Whoever or whatever this voice belonged to sounded as if it been had drained of anything remotely related to a living soul. It was the sound of a nightmare snapping at the heels of a victim.

This dispassionate, deadly voice dismissed the possibility that the Captain would actually fire on the chamber. "_You_ would be destroyed," it reminded her.

"Better than being one of you!" Tom heard the Captain retort. Under the circumstances, he totally agreed with her. At that moment his priorities crystallized and time seemed to slow. Tom felt a tranquil surety that displaced any anxiety. His voice was level and calm as he acknowledged that he was ready for the Captain's orders.

"Tom, high yield torpedoes, full spread. Fire on my command." The Captain's order came back to him, loud and clear.

Tom spared some attention for the Flyer's weapons while working against the tractor beam that was trying to drag them toward a closer acquaintance than he ever wanted to have with the Borg. He'd never given much thought to what it was about the Borg, aside from the obvious that is, that cut him so deeply. Maybe it was the fact that he had struggled his whole life to make his own decisions and to choose his own destiny. To lose that freedom to the Borg would be an almost unbearably cruel irony. Or, maybe it was the secrets that he still carried and wasn't ready to share yet. As a Borg drone, his deepest thoughts would be open to everyone in the hive.

In the past, Tom had never found the time to examine his personal reasons for not wanting to be Borg. He was certainly too busy to do so right now. "Fuck!" He spat out, along with a few other choice words that rattled innocuously off the Borg shields but made him feel better.

The Borg might be efficient. Tom still knew a few tricks that would throw them off a bit longer. There! That did it. Even if he couldn't break free of the tractor beam, he'd gained enough time to be able to fire on the chamber before the Borg ship swallowed him up. No matter what happened to him inside that cube, he could now be sure that the Captain and her team never had to endure being Borg.

Before he received that final order to fire, the tractor beam suddenly released the Flyer. It was too quick for the inertial dampeners to fully compensate. Tom was jolted out of his seat. The Doctor complained as he crashed into the equipment behind him.

"I _told_ you to hang on, Doc!"

"You didn't say anything about adhering myself to my seat!" the Doctor shot back.

Tom grabbed the edge of his own console and pulled himself back into place. "Captain, shields around the Borg chamber are down. They've disengaged the tractor beam," he reported.

"Hold your fire. Get us out of here," the Captain amended.

Tom was much happier to hear _that_ order. But, when he tried to lock onto the team the Borg shields went back up. The Borg Queen seemed to be playing cat and mouse with them, at one moment ready to let the away team go, then throwing Borg shields back up around the chamber. Tom cursed again as yet another attempt to lock on a transporter beam was thwarted by the Queen. This game was getting old, fast.

The Captain seemed to think so too. Tom could hear weapons fire, apparently targeting what he heard Seven identify as the communication link that connected the Queen to the Borg hive. In seconds, the Queen was isolated and helpless. Tom took advantage of the resulting Borg confusion to finally get a successful lock on the away team.

In the Borg chamber, the last thing that Kathryn saw when the beam grabbed her was the Queen's face, glaring in outrage as she watched the transporters take Seven and the away team out of her reach.

After she reassembled on the Flyer the Captain immediately resumed her station. The Doctor ran a quick scan before releasing Seven to take over at Tuvok's vacated station. Tuvok moved up beside Tom to co-ordinate weapons fire.

Tom could give his full attention to flying again. He entered a course that sent the Flyer racing away from the Borg complex. They all knew that it wouldn't take long for the Borg to regroup. In fact some of them were already in pursuit. Tom felt no need to edit the emotion from his voice now. "Three vessels, closing fast!" Even with evasive maneuvers, the ship was being targeted with weapons fire from multiple Borg spheres.

"Direct hit," he heard Tuvok report.

Tom made the necessary calculations to access a conduit that would take them back to Voyager. He was plotting a direct route home. There was no need to waste time with another scenic tour. The sooner they got back to Voyager, the better. They just had to stay in one piece long enough to make it to the rendezvous co-ordinates. Of course, the Borg ships behind them had other ideas. Another jolt rocked the Flyer, weakening their shields.

"Tom?" the Captain asked, urging him to move faster.

"Transwarp in 3-2-1," Tom finished his countdown. "A vessel entered the conduit with us just before it closed," he reported. _That_ wasn't good news. It was one more complication that he would have been happier to avoid. Flying inside a transwarp conduit with a friendly ship could be tricky. Sharing it with an enemy was simply dangerous. The enemy didn't even have to make a direct weapons hit. They could cause serious damage just by making the ship lose control.

Tom concentrated on making sure that the Flyer was a difficult target to hit. He didn't have a lot of room to maneuver here either and the Borg vessel was showering the area around them with heavy fire. Tom flinched as a panel exploded behind him. Strong jolts buffeted the Flyer and the Borg vessel rapidly closed the distance between them.

Tom knew what the ship he had designed was capable of doing and he was her pilot. Even with the Captain on board, he felt that it was his responsibility to get the crew home safely. He made one more readjustment, pushed the Flyer and they shot out into normal space.

Up ahead the pale shape of Voyager waited for them at the rendezvous point, hanging undisturbed in the serenity of deep space. Her sleek lines were a welcome contrast to the menacing confusion of the Borg complex they had left behind at the other end of the conduit. The crew on the Flyer savored this moment of quiet stillness. No Borg, no danger, just two ships poised in space. It felt almost surreal. Then a spread of photon torpedoes shot out from Voyager, passed the Flyer and exploded in the aperture they had just exited.

"We've collapsed the conduit." Chakotay reported from Voyager.

Kathryn Janeway forced herself to stand down from her temporary return to high alert. "Clear us for docking," she instructed Chakotay. "We're not going to wait around for surprise guests. Get ready to move Voyager away from here. Have Lt. Torres assemble an engineering team to meet the Flyer in the docking bay. I want the transwarp coil transferred to Voyager as soon as possible."

B'Elanna immediately replied, "Already on it, Captain. We made the necessary preparations while you were gone. We can get the coil out of the Flyer and installed on Voyager in three hours."

"Very good, Lieutenant." The Captain knew that B'Elanna didn't exaggerate. If she said that they could be ready to go in three hours, that's when they would be ready. "Commander, we'll be taking Voyager to transwarp as soon as the coil is installed. Meanwhile, prepare a course out of here, full impulse."

"Aye, Captain."

On the Flyer, the Doctor fluttered around like a broody hen hovering over his charges as the crew wound down from the stress levels of the previous few days and the last few hours.

Seven was surprised to discover that she felt tired. She had regenerated not that long ago. She didn't yet realize that her fatigue had less to do with her body than it did with her spirit. It would take time for her to assimilate this experience and the unexpected discovery that she was now an alien in the once familiar Borg world.

The Captain watched Seven's reactions with concern. Once this business was over, she knew that she would be spending a lot of time helping Seven to recover from this encounter with her former Borg family. For the moment, the Captain had other matters that required her immediate attention.

"Doctor, you can run a thorough examination of Seven after we finish installing the coil on Voyager," she instructed him. "Right now we need Seven's expertise to scan for any further signs of Borg activity."

"Very well, Captain," he said. He accepted the delay only because his preliminary scans already told him that, physically, Seven was fine."

The Captain moved on. "Tuvok, you'll be needed on the bridge while I meet with Commander Chakotay. Keep us at full alert."

Tuvok quietly acknowledged her order while keeping weapons and shields at the ready. Kathryn motioned for Tuvok to change places with her. He slipped past her to switch to another console while she sat down beside Tom. "You did a good job back there," she told him as he laid in their docking trajectory.

Tom could still feel the adrenaline rushing through his system. Concentrating on docking maneuvers helped him to ease back down to more normal levels. Docking was routine for Tom. He could handle the Flyer and listen to the Captain at the same time. "I've gotten the knack of transwarp flight now and the Flyer's an old friend," he told the Captain.

"I'm sure she is," she said. "But, I wasn't just talking about your piloting."

"Oh," he said.

"That was a difficult command that I gave you. I couldn't make things easy. But, I knew that I could count on you."

"Well," Tom quipped in reflex reaction, "if I had to fire, it would have been one way to move on up the chain of command." He winced when he realized what he had just said and how it sounded. His mouth was obviously still in overdrive. "Not the way I would choose, though," he muttered.

"It's good to know that my officers aren't lining up to get rid of me," she joked to help him out of an awkward moment. "But, it's also good to know I can depend on you to carry out difficult orders," she added, going back to her earlier point.

He nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to say anything more with his foot still in his mouth.

She squeezed his shoulder, and then changed the subject. "You'll have two hours, at most. B'Elanna will need your input when she fine-tunes the coil. Then you'll be at the helm while we're at transwarp."

"Aye, Captain."

The Captain watched Tom guide the Flyer flawlessly into Voyager's main shuttle bay. Others on Voyage could manage the ship. Managing wasn't enough for transwarp flight. None of the other pilots could get what Tom could get out of the ship. They had only one shot at getting all the distance they could out of the coil. It wouldn't last long on the bigger ship and once the coil gave out that was it for transwarp. They couldn't afford to waste a second. As long as the coil held up, Tom would be on duty. They could all rest _after_ the transwarp flight was over. That's what life was like in the Delta quadrant.

"Ready to dock, Captain."

"Take us home, Mr. Paris."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The End 

Author's notes:

1) Some of the relevant events and dialogue from the episode, Dark Frontier were adapted for use in the last two chapters. The rest of the action, dialogue and the added interpretation were invented for this story.

2) I used this opportunity to provide an additional reason why Tom reacted so strongly when he was trapped inside the Borg assimilation chamber in the episode, Collective.

3) The paragraph about Tom getting more out of the ship than the other pilots was inspired by something that one of the pilots from the real Top Gun school said about the difference between learning to be a pilot and learning to be a top pilot.

4) Sometimes Tom's piloting skills seem to be undervalued because so many other people fly the ship too. For me, this is like saying that because many other people also work in Engineering, any one of them is as skilled and as valuable an engineer as B'Elanna is.


End file.
